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Monthly Archives: June 2014

Musings on the Driveway Cracks – Promote Yourself



They said they would appear,
The cracks that is,
Eventually, Inevitably,
Not hairline fractures
Not superficial scratches
But deep cracks, all the way
Down to the times of sand
That comprise the shifting
Moving underlayment.
Well come they did, they did.
The cracks that is.

And the ants, lots of ants.
They’ve taken up their residence
In the cracks, the many cracks.
Shuttling through the cracks between the
Times of sand and the surface.
They leave their grains in piles
For everyone to see.
But the rain comes and goes
Washes away the piles
Leaving the cracks clean, fresh.
The piles will return though,
Possessing perpetuality
Without the permanence.

Deeper down in the cracks
Organic matter finds its way
Decays, provides fertile
Bedding for seeds of weeds
To find a home and grow.
I cut them and pull them
Sometimes I poison them (I know).
I know the cracks come but do not go
With the unending tides
But I am not ready
For them to be wide.


Joe Gergen

Writer and blogger from Minnesota


I am the one

Who sat upon

The highest cliff

Reaching out to

To the loudest waves

When a man approached me


Though his eyes were sad

He needed someone to talk to,

I did not acknowledge him,

It was at that moment

A teardrop crept from his eye,

Falling and crashing deep into the waves

He followed,

Leaving no trace

When he jumped into the waves,

Silence clung

Like a glove,

All I could feel was his pain

Around my heart


I remain solo

I wish I had spent the time

To talk to him,

The stranger that I ignored

I wish I had been brave enough,

To hear what he had to say

I was his last hope

Now I will never know

The hurt he held inside

I will never know,

How many times he had cried

About whatever secret he held inside

Why his tear drops fell

Into the hungry waters,

Whilst I sat upon the highest cliff

Reaching out to the loudest waves,

Still I remain solo

by Gillian Sims

Louise – workshop poetry

Louise was a lovely girl she rested beneath the trees

She was enjoying the scenery

When all at once she had a thought

She really  needed to eat some lunch

But all she had was a piece of cheese

She rummaged through her shopping

And laid it on her knees.

A piece of bread was all she found,

Really not much of a wheeze,

Just  enough to make her sneeze.

By Claire


Dover Beach -by Matthew Arnold – YOUR FAVOURITE POEM


The sea is calm to-night.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanch'd land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the {AE}gean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furl'd.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.

Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night. 


I am a women of change -Promote Yourself

Fatty, bean poll, pushy,  loser, Airhead, know it all, troll stuck up Bitch. Heard too often, spoken to frequently.
Stereo  types passed down and passed on to our daughter’s adults and children alike.
Somewhere in the USA a girl cry’s herself to sleep tonight.
Too bad so sad toughen up, sticks and stones we say.
Pushed and pulled by the media and each other to look, be and sound a certain way.
We can’t be too thin or to fat, too tall too short to white or to black.
Fit in, be perfect, and be cool no matter what it cost.
Do these things always, even if in doing that many lives are lost.
We starve, we binge, become addict or even cut.
Then we blame others for the problems we have set up.
We continue to petty and are mean spirited long into adulthood.
Stay at home vs. working Mom, bottle or breast, intellectual vs. pretty each side clamming to be the best.
Why not try supporting each other, building one another up not tearing each other down.
So you don’t like the game than change the dam the dam rules.
Stop being eating it up like, cattle following like sheep and acting like fools.
Be who you are without hurting anyone else.
Be confident and comfortable be fabulous, empathetic and bold.
Dark or light, big or small, straight or gay there is room for at the table for us all.
I make no apologies for who I am and neither should you.
Did I strike a never with this?
Are you offended?
Yak, I’m talking to you!
Good. Then maybe we can start talking.
Maybe can have an intelligent conversation and change the world for the good.
We are all beautiful and gifted in our own way.
Teach are young that who they are is better than ok.
Change your perception first, watch the message that you send.
Look out ourselves first.
Although they play a small part, don’t so fast to t blame the men.
Take a hard look ladies, it is us who teach our sons how to treat Women.
The young learn from example.
They watch what we say and do.
Look in the mirror first for change,
Real change starts with me and you!
Juan Schwenger

The workhouse

Heavy steps through

“The Archway Of Tears”

blow your candles out

at 8 o clock here,

you leave the house?

You lose your meal!

The severity of the law you’ll feel

when you’re locked up in a refractory cell,

Litchfield Street is worse than hell,

turn the capstan,

grind the corn,

Matron wakes you

at the crack of dawn,

we forget so easily,

we get fat and bald  in front of the T.V,

take time to read article 1.20

and spare a thought for these poor souls

 Robert Maccartney

The Art Of Letting – Promote Yourself



Here we are again, trying to work through our problems

I’m  sorry that I’m not perfect,

I mess things up. Get the truth screwed


What do you want me to do?

Always run to you?

But you have to remember that you might be leaving me,

Crashing my whole world to the ground.

I ask you questions, you can’t give me answers

Just like it’s always been

All the way up to now.

I ask you if you want me to go,

But you don’t know the answer.

I ask you if you want to be free,

You say you can’t live without me.

You say I portray you as having no emotions,

But I know that’s not true.

If you had no emotions I would already be over you.

It’s clear to me that I’ll never see where you’re coming from.

I can still try,

I look inside that brain of yours.

I see all the hurt,

I see all the pain I caused.

And I feel even more broken inside,

Crying out my eyes

Just can’t let you go,

And you know it’s true.

Why did we start this if you were always just going to leave me for


You say, girl, we can always be together,

I can only be with him for so long.

It’s a never-ending song that we sing

But I am a little tired of singing along.

Feel like you’re just stringing me along.

The thing is, I can’t leave you,

Whilst there is still a slight chance

That you will pick me

Instead of that totally different dance.

But last night you went

And crushed all of my hope

Yet here I am


Using Google Chat to talk about another guy that you’re into

And how you’re all confused.

Don’t you ever think that I’m confused, too?

Now, I know that you will read this

And say your special little phrase

But I can’t help my feelings

When I repress them in front of you every day.

Gabriell Engel





Today I was aware of a presence within me

A presence not my own

Someone, something inhabiting my mind

A possession which now seems to have flown


The racing feeling in my head

Like a nausea of the mind

Someone sifting through my thoughts

Was it the first and only time?


It was an unsettling experience

The unusual and unknown fed discomfort

But the aftermath is twice the unease

An emptiness, a void, a conundrum




“An Invitation” – Promote Yourself

The newly renovated house of Fame
Now welcomes those who once remained obscure.
There need not be a talent that you claim,
Such as painting or discovering a cure.
If people like your clothes or fam’ly name,
Of endless press and cash you can be sure.
With luck you might become a superstar
No matter how inane and vile you are.
“Paths to the House of Fame”
The journey’s smoothest for the young and lean.
First, make then leak a kinky video
And claim it was intended to be seen
By no one but your dearest Romeo.
The Lady Fame will crown you Drama Queen,
And have you join the House’s newest show.
You’ll know you’ve made it to the House’s top
When fans are paying just to watch you shop.
A song might take you to the House’s stair.
Although you sound just like an ill raccoon,
You have no reason, darlings, to despair
Or practice scales and “Fly Me to the Moon.”
Undress your body ‘til it’s nearly bare,
Then dress your naked voice in auto-tune.
You’ll rise on every major music chart
By learning how to dress and play the part.
Some find the place where Lady Fame resides
By seeming to defiantly rebel.
Tattoos that cover all but their insides
Proclaim they’re demons full of raging Hell—
As do their raps on drugs and homicides
And wicked words they normally misspell.
Although they think their ways to be unique,
Their breed of fish would crowd the largest creek.

ON OBLIVIOUSNESS – Promote Yourself

Seven billion global citizens; all but oblivious to one another. But to the extent that any 
two or more share, in #twitterfiction, space-time-continuity …
… i.e., but when we touch, see, hear, smell, taste or otherwise surreally perceive another,
we are oblivious, in #twitterfiction … to our brother. 
The internet is, in #twitterfiction, the God-given conduit whereby we might alchemically 
transcend to global peace … and global … prosperity.
In #twitterfiction,we need to do what is only seemingly impossible; the abnegation of surrealities, 
like nationality in favor of the exaltation … of our humanity.
Time, in #twitterfiction, for Truth and Reconciliation; whether you think we can get it done 
or you think we can’t, you’re absolutely … right … on.
See @chachomanopapa on Twitter, and, its blog-log analog, 
for poetry, in #twitterfiction, about history, from tweets, and a blog.
Poems melding Ovid’s and Emily’s; in poems to (wo)men about change, otherworldly visionaries
in #twitterfiction ask: Of what good are borders … and nationalities? 
By Miguel Vera from Puerto Rico

@chachomanopapa on Twitter

Stone – Promote Yourself


Don’t I have blood?

Don’t I bleed?

I am human

Can’t you see?

Stop scratching

Stop attacking

Cause one day

this shell will be empty

My humanity will be gone

Once human forever  stone


Nuura Axmed

A winters night

A Summer’s breeze

A Winter’s night 

A Spring leaf An Autumn bright 

These are the things I no longer see,

Due to the things that haunt me

A torn limb, shattered bones,

Broken dreams and awful wounds

Why should one forego these scenes?

Learn again to live your dreams 

Cooling breeze on a summer’s night 

A roaring fire, curled up tight 

Dew drops on flowered fields 

Falling leaves into piles I can dream,

I can hope For old scenes to help me cope

One new day I shall see,

Old welcome memories

 But for now, I can only see,

new scenes that taunt me

In my dreams, in my head,

haunting things full of dread

Of a life lived too fast,

Wishing to regain my past

Something good and something fresh

A bright new view for me to look to,

A whole new world for my future……

Dan Fry


Thanks for your time. – Promote Yourself


You quickly cross that peril off the list
Because the danger, you assume, has passed,
But other sets of Sirens still exist
And might enchant you when no ropes or mast
Or loyal friends with wax to stop their ears
Restrain your mad, unquenchable desire
To touch the blazing sun that sears
Without enduring its consuming fire.
It’s easy to resist when you’re in chains
And friendly prison guards can’t hear your voice,
But one who’s absolutely free refrains
When fatal pleasure has become a choice.
Until you’ve walked by foes without your crutch,
Surviving battles doesn’t mean that much.
Paul Burgess

The Phone Call… – Promote Yourself

It’s now eight hours 
Since I sent her flowers 
To say am sorry 
And she needs not worry 
Now the day drifts away 
Leaving me cursing and gray
Another day, another apology 
I know at times I get edgy 
And the promises seem empty 
The price I pay, so hefty 
Trust me when I say 
That I am yours come what may
Grant me my love 
This only favor my dove 
Set me free 
From this lonely spree 
Pull me up to stand tall 
With that magical phone call
Save me sweet heart 
This misery that keeps me hurt 
Guide me through 
The morning dew 
Make our virtual paradise 
A constant sunrise!
A sunrise that never will never set 
Not even when we get upset 
When we hurl objects 
At each others project 
And shout out obscenities 
To the neighbors perplexities!
Make that phone call 
For am unable to press ‘Call’ 
And let that sweet voice 
That I claimed make much noise 
Shatter my weakened defenses 
Bring back my dodgy senses
Ooko Victor

Sonnet To The Sea -Promote Yourself

640px-Hovhannes_Aivazovsky_-_The_Ninth_Wave_-_Google_Art_Project (1)
Thou Bossom of the Deep,
oh, Sweet Mother Sea,
Sing me Sweetly to Sleep,
Gently with Thy Swishing Waves,
Thou Mistress of Fury and Calm,
which Threatens or Saves,
to my Heart Thou art a Balm,
Thy ever Changeable Nature,
Suiting my Alterable Moods,
Ranging from Safety to Danger,
I Love the Beauty Thy Waters Exude,
each Different Heave and Roll,
Exalts to the Center of my Soul.


CARS CARS EVERY WHERE – Promote Yourself

car car
~              cars cars everywhere, they go so fast they don’t care,they drive through the streets without  a care,they drive through the town but don’t know where.    ~                                                                  They drive so fast an pick up speed,I wonder if they get there an succeed,            big ones fat ones and tall ones too,do you know if they are new.                                Fast and speedy slow at times,the wheels still turning all the time.                                ~                                                                cars cars everywhere  if you aint one I don’t care,you see them in the windows and you see them in shows,I don’t want to look,oh I suppose.                                      Its a toy for the old and young,do you know where it all begun,in our cars we want style and grace,do you know if you want to race,the need for speed its sad but true,but is it really just you.                    ~      patricia bourne ~  

Passing Time Square – Promote Yourself

time square
I learnt from thee, passer-by
To recite yours of Poetry
Those verses I made of them my song,
Poems, like leaves fallen from a tree
The passing of Autumn, dyeing his body–
A girl with a tattoo, paint’ on a dragonfly.
Mid-haiku, and half-quatrain
I am like a cicada had
It sung all day long,
resting on a limb of a tree
May sing it all summer long
That of, passing-by,
Bow your hat

Mid-day or rush-hours
Take the A or the Q-train
Oh! foolish, thou arth
You throw, dimes and dollars,
on the ground at my feet,
while the soul of my guitar
Burns low like cigars
Makes your hearth, beats
In an instant of delights.
I don’t want the spot-lights
I don’t want the limelight
All I need is love
I don’t need all the above
Can’t you see me,
that I am bleeding
Can’t you see me
‘T’s in my insides-within
while my guitar weeping

Can’t you see those, at noon
My tears like diamonds,
In starry nights.
Rise your eyes,
And You can see the moon
Reflecting in its eye
The offing, or a sea,
at sunrise
So, O you Time Passer-by
Whisper my song to the ears of the wind,
It’s like a dream in the gleam
It will rest
on a dream-catchers nest
on a stay
At ease,
on a wintry day
So, will you please
Gimme back my dream,
And take with you yours,
I need my hearth to rest
Take me home
Take me home, it’s enough for me,
Of Broken roads,and tours
Ending of the world, to roam
Take me to the mountain
Take me to the river
I would like to see it,
If the river still, a river
Running through it
If the mountain is still, mountain
The Hoggar, to climb it
The stars in the sky 
The Milky Way 
At my eye,
Is the limit
So, O you passerby 
Passing Time Square
Look what they do to my song
Take it from my tongue
Look to where
At Broadway
They ditch it.

Passing Time Square, *All Copyrights reserved
Please, be gentile when you use it,
Just call my name, when you sing it

“This Bird Will Sing: Inspired by Maya Angelou” – Promote Yourself

Suffering heavy heart and wing,
Wind forcing flight close to the ground,
This bird will never cease to sing.

To my song, I’ll always cling,
Though I may appear nearly downed,
Suffering heavy heart and wing.
No man, whether peasant or king,
Will ever silence my bold sound.
This bird will never cease to sing.
My voice will vibrantly ring,
If I am shackled and earthbound,
Suffering heavy heart and wing.
Whatever fickle Fate may bring,
Be it murky marsh or sparkling spring,
This bird will never cease to sing.
Though one day thorns of age will sting,
And my green soul will become browned,
Suffering heaving heart and wing,
This bird will never cease to sing.
Paul Burgess
“This Bird Will Sing: Inspired by Maya Angelou” (a villanelle by Paul Burgess)
In 2006, after reading I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, I composed this villanelle for a class. Since it is as cheesy as the most sentimental of greeting cards, I had not planned to share it with anyone. But, since Angelou has passed, I will post it in memory of her. [As with many poems I wrote in college, the meter is a bit irregular]
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